I hope 10 million working parents just pushed back their chairs and went "Oh hell no."

Yes, yes, they did. Chelsea, it seems, spent yesterday morning in North Carolina campaigning for her mother, presidential candidate Hillary Clinton. (She's a bit under the weather, you may have heard.) Back in New York, it was little Charlotte Mezvinsky's first day of preschool, and her father, Marc, along with a nanny, dropped the almost-two-year-old off.

I don't think I've ever seen an article about a father "missing" his child's first day of school.

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I suppose we could start with the fact that Chelsea is being singled out for "missing" a first day of school, instead of being celebrated for doing her job as a key campaign strategist for the Democratic nominee for president. This is a pretty familiar trope: Working moms are always juggling, aren't we? Balancing our professional and domestic responsibilities? And when the two conflict—as they sometimes do—and we are forced to choose, well then, as the metaphor goes, a ball is dropped. In this case that ball was Charlotte. How will she ever know she is loved?

Second, I could point out that I don't think I've ever seen an article about a father "missing" his child's first day of school. What gets noticed are the times they do show up, when they "take time out" from a busy work schedule to squeeze in the first-day photo op. Good for them. I mean that sincerely—it's great when a parent can drop off their child at school.

It should be noted that the Daily Mail seems to have changed its headline to the pithy yet lyrical: "It takes a village! Chelsea Clinton's husband Marc and their nanny take Charlotte to her first day of preschool - which she misses to campaign for her sick mom."

"Chelsea's husband Marc"? I'm sorry, I think you mean Charlotte's father Marc. In this case, I don't think it does take a village. I think it takes a working parent or two, with the help of reliable childcare, to make sure a two-year-old is deposited at a licensed facility for a few hours of supervised play.

This is a dance that working parents do every day. They spend countless hours looking at schedules, texting each other and the people, paid or otherwise, who help care for their children, to make sure someone is always there. None of us wants special recognition for doing our jobs and fulfilling our responsibilities as caregivers, but we definitely don't want to be shamed for occasionally having to make difficult choices.

I know I got myself into this situation. I used my ovaries while also earning a paycheck.

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Ok, that's a lie. I'd like a round of applause and a huge raise, but I also know I got myself into this situation. I used my ovaries while also earning a paycheck. At a job that I love and am deeply proud to do. There are difficult and overwhelming moments but I am deeply grateful to have them. Now if Ivanka could just do something about paid family leave.

Here's the real bind: I spend more energy than I care to admit trying to convince everyone around me that I'm both mother enough and professionally focused and ready to go. I reply to every last email, often before 6 a.m., and when something does take me away from my desk at an inopportune time, I make jokes by way of apology. Do you guys think it's funny that I called my kid an asshole for getting the stomach flu? It is. It's hilarious.

I also know that no one likes a bad mother, so when people ask me if it's hard to be away from my kids all the time (and they do ask me this) I say "It's so so hard." What I want to say is: "Boy do I love not spending every waking hour with them." Missing my children while doing my job—and then coming home to them—is a delightful combination.

Sometimes being a good parent means knowing when not to show up. Deep, I know.

Let me tell you another thing I've learned: The biggest moments between a parent and a child are rarely the ones we put on Instagram. First days of school are important, but third days can be a much bigger deal. That's the day your son realizes he has to come to that strange room every day for the next year. And he freaks out. Three weeks in is big as well. That's the day he finally makes a friend and tells you about it. Six months in, when he tells you how much he loves his teacher, that's one you'll always remember. I will miss some of those moments, but I will be there for a lot of them.

Here's another thought: What if Chelsea Clinton didn't think it was a good idea to be there on the first day of school? Maybe Charlotte is a little something like my son was at age two, and has an epic, heart stomping meltdown when forced to separate from her mother in an unfamiliar place. (My kid had to be peeled off me, screaming "Don't leave me," as I sobbed. Do you know how ludicrous it sounds when you say "I know you're going to love it here" while ugly crying?)

Maybe Chelsea and Marc decided together that Charlotte would feel stronger and braver if her father dropped her off. Sometimes being a good parent means knowing when not to show up. Deep, I know.

I missed my daughter's first day of school this year. That's because it happened to be on my son's first day of school and I could not physically be in two places at once. Perhaps once I achieve the ability to bifurcate, I will be parent enough. Until then, I am very fortunate to have people who can help.